Into the Woods
by nine miles to go
Summary: Six year old Harry is fed up with the Dursleys, so he decides to run away. But once he enters the nearby woods, he has no idea what's in store for him...implied HPGWTOTALLY AU
1. Chapter One

Into the Woods

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, I would fully attempt to rule the world...who's with me? HP FANS UNITE! Lol.

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Chapter One

After making sure everyone in Privet Drive would surely be asleep, Harry quietly rose from his cot in the cupboard under the stairs. The six-year-old's heart fluttered with excitement and anticipation; he'd been planning this for over three months now. Finally, he was going to escape the Dursleys once and for all.

He shuddered, thinking of how long those three months had been. It had taken him that long to finally strike up the nerve to run away, he was so freaked out. The Dursleys were scary people. He remembered when he got the idea of escaping—he considered it the breaking point.

………………………………………

It had been a long, hot day, unusually hot for a day in late May. It felt like the middle of July, and it was drop-dead humid outside. He would know, having spent hours tending to the hedges and Petunia's garden, then painting the fence (which seemed to need a new coat at least every two months; two weeks if it was especially cold or torturous weather, according to his uncle). By the time he was finished, he was ready to collapse. More than anything, he was thirsty. He hoped silently to himself that there would be nobody in the kitchen to witness him drinking a quick glass of water.

Unfortunately, his plea was not answered. Petunia was in the kitchen standing over the sink and washing the dishes. Her lips thinned immediately at the sight of him. "You're filthy. Get out of my house."

"But…"

"You heard her, boy," Vernon growled. He pointed outside menacingly. "Out."

Harry nodded feebly, not knowing what else to do. It was better not to upset his uncle. He walked back through the screen door and sat dejectedly under Petunia's hedges (which were, he thought to himself, very well cared for). After a moment or two of waiting, he heard a car pull up in the driveway. He had looked up to find his obese cousin, Dudley, and several of his friends, exiting the car and coming to the front door.

Dudley smirked at him. "Watch out, Potter," he hissed, thoroughly enjoying the fright he was instilling. His friends cackled wickedly behind him.

Harry groaned, grimacing to himself. He was in for another beating.

Sure enough, by the end of the hour, he was battered and bruised, eventually forced to climb up a tree to evade the lot of them. Dudley had done most of it; Harry now sported a black eye, a couple of ugly scrapes and bruises from where he'd fallen multiple times and been hit by Dudley's infamous stick, and at least one busted up finger. He wiggled his fingers—no, maybe two.

"Get down from there!" Dudley had screamed, knowing full well that his heavy form would never make it up that far.

Harry ignored him, too winded to respond, and merely scurried up the tree even faster. He wasn't quite sure whose backyard this was, but for the moment, it was protection.

"You'll be sorry, Potter," Dudley swore to him, turning his back on Harry. "You can sit there all night, if you want. We'll be having dinner." Then he walked away haughtily, his friends following him like a pack of feeble minions would their master.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing a little. Then something cracked underneath his small frame. Instantly, he knew what was happening, but his arm flew up to grab the higher branch only a second too late; the branch he was sitting on collapsed, and he was sent hurtling to the ground.

He landed on the grass with a hard thud that seemed to shake his brain. For a moment he just laid there, letting his consciousness slowly creep back to him and the little lights in his head disappear.

"You, boy!"

Harry sat upright immediately, fearing that it was his aunt. But it wasn't—it was their neighbor with all the smelly cats, Arabella Figg.

"What were you doing climbing that tree again?" she yelped, racing towards him. "You could've been killed! Are you all right?"

"Um, yeah," Harry answered, standing up shakily and brushing himself off. "Sorry. It won't happen again."

She gave him a sympathetic look. "It will happen again. That's why it's sad, really. But just remember—they're a bunch of bullies. You're stronger than them."

"No, I'm not," said Harry sadly, looking down at his bloody knees.

Mrs. Figg was about to contradict him when his uncle bellowed from the house, "BOY! GET IN HERE AT ONCE!"

"Sorry, Uncle Vernon!" Harry called back, running towards the house. Vernon took one look at him and, shaking his head angrily, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck.

"You're pathetic, you know that? Thankfully, Dudley and his friends give you what you deserve. But that doesn't mean you can go on bloodying up my kitchen, now, does it?" He dropped Harry roughly on the grass in the backyard and pulled out the hose, turning the knob. Harry flinched.

"Uncle Vernon, I—"

"Shut up, boy," his uncle commanded, turning on the hose to full blast and spraying Harry down.

The force of the hose literally sent him flying backwards on the grass, piercing the open gashes on his skin. He heard a snap; thankfully, it was his glasses this time, not a bone. Trying to find a bright side, he thought to himself, "At least it's cold."

When Vernon finished, he grinned triumphantly and left Harry sputtering on the lawn. "I'll come back for you later. You stay out here until dinner's over, got it?"

"G-got it." Harry tinkered with his glasses while his uncle was gone, and managed to get the tape on them to stick again. How long would it last, though? At least he could see.

Soon it was nightfall, and he was still waiting in the backyard. He yawned, and realizing his uncle was probably in bed, curled up by the hedges and tried to fall asleep.

"Meow."

He opened his eyes, alarmed. "Oh," he said in surprise. "Hi, kitty," he said to the cat standing quite still in front of him. The cat cocked its head, almost in concern, before leaving just as abruptly as it came.

The next morning, his uncle was furious. "How dare you stay out here? What would the neighbors think of us?" he screamed once they were in the house. He grabbed Harry by the shirt collar again, still yelling, but Harry wasn't listening. He was bracing himself for the cupboard.

Sure enough, Vernon kicked open the cupboard door and threw him violently inside of it. Harry's head smacked the wall with a sickening crack…and he saw darkness.

He woke the next day, the room pitch black and the door still locked. The Dursleys forgot about him; finally, three days later, he was released again because there was nobody to do the chores. But those three days offered him a lot of thinking time…he knew he had to get out of here. Soon.

………………………………………

Those were the days he sat there, hungry, alone, and scared, that he decided he was leaving. He was finished with the strenuous tasks, the berating words, the threats and the vicious bullying. He wasn't quite sure how he was going to survive, but he'd find a way. He always did.

The door of the cupboard creaked as he opened it; he squeezed his eyes shut and hoped that nobody was awakened by the noise. Carefully, he grabbed his knapsack, in which he'd put all of his clothes and his three of Dudley's school textbooks that he'd thrown at Harry one day and then forgot about.

He crept into the kitchen, quickly grabbed two of the apples, half the bread loaf and a water bottle before finally leaving the house through the front door. As he closed the door behind him and looked out at the stretch of Privet Drive, he thought to himself happily, _Free. I'm finally free. _

Harry began his trek. He knew exactly where he was going; straight to the large forest that bordered the playground Dudley always terrorized. It was pitch black outside, with only one streetlamp to offer him light near the playground. He found himself fearing the lurking shadows…but reminded himself that there was nothing out there but his own imagination.

He stood at the edge of the forest for a moment, uncertain about whether he should enter or not. There was something foreboding about the forest. Dudley had said to all the little kids that were younger than him, "You'd better watch it; there are horrible monsters in those woods." Of course, Harry knew not to believe his stupid cousin. But what if…?

He took a step forward, then heard something rustle behind him. He whipped around in fright to find the same cat he'd seen those three months ago when he'd been locked outside for the night.

Relieved, he took a deep breath. "You like sneaking up on people, don't you?" he asked the cat, almost laughing about how absurd he was being. That cat, a monster of the forest? As if. "Get a grip," he told himself, walking into the forest.

The cat followed.

Harry frowned at it. "Don't you have an owner or something?"

The cat merely stared at him intensely, almost human-like. Harry shivered, despite the summer heat. There was something…weird about this cat. But what?

He shrugged and let the cat follow. He walked maybe three miles deep into the forest, and then, confident that nobody would be able to find him this far in, sat down on a tree stump in a clearing. He took one of the pieces of bread out of the sack, hungry since he hadn't eaten since lunch, and broke off a piece for the cat.

"It's bread," Harry said to it, as if the cat would understand. "You can have some. It's not deadly or something."

The cat cocked its head and took the bread from him.

Harry sighed happily, having rid himself of the Dursleys. He curled into a sleeping position on the large stump, already beginning to nod off, when he heard a high-pitched wail from not too far away.

"_RON! Where are you?" _

Harry stood immediately. _He wasn't alone. _

………………………………………

Thanks for reading! R&R pretty pretty please :D :D :D :D


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, I own...my shoelaces and the piece of gum I'm chewing, just to name a few. But you know what? They're PRETTY shoelaces and it's a TASTY piece of gum, so THERE!

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Chapter Two 

"Ron? Ron, where are you?"

Harry looked around through the trees. The voice sounded like a little girl's, probably no older than he was. Why would there be kids out in the woods in the middle of the night?

Oh, yeah—he was a kid, too.

As soon as the voice let out the call, the cat scurried away. "Oh," said Harry, "good-bye, then."

"Ron? Is that you?"

The girl's footsteps crunched through the dead leaves and branches in the dirt, racing towards him. "Ron?" she repeated. "Ron…this isn't funny…" she wailed. Finally she reached the clearing. She saw Harry and screamed.

Harry gaped at her. "What's your problem?" he tried to say, but he couldn't be made audible over her scream. "Shut up! They're gonna find us!"

Her eyes grew wide. "You mean the prisoners of Azkaban?"

"No—what? I meant the police," Harry said, frowning.

"Police? What's that?"

"What's Azkaban?"

The girl frowned back at him, her hazel eyes furrowed in confusion. Harry took a good look at her, squinting in the dark. She was a little bit shorter than he was, with long red hair that was tangled all around her face with leaves and twigs stuck in it. She wore overalls and a lavender shirt, which seemed normal enough, but on top of it was a rather used-looking purple robe.

"Why are you wearing that thing?" Harry asked, seeing that the girl wasn't going to answer him.

"Oh, shoot," she realized, her eyes growing wide. "You're a muggle!"

"I'm a what? I don't—"

"Um, I, just—I didn't say anything," she said, looking frightened of him. She took a step back.

"Who's Ron?" asked Harry.

She hesitated. "My older brother," she answered after a moment. "I have five older brothers—"

"Lucky," Harry said under his breath.

"—and Fred and George, the twins, dared us to come into these woods because of Azkaban, the wi—the, um, prison. But you're a muggle, right? So you don't know what that is. So I didn't tell you. I think I wasn't supposed to, so just pretend I didn't say that." She bit her lip. "Oops."

"What's your name?"

"Ginny Weasley," she said. "My brothers are Bill, Percy, Fred and George, and Ron. My brother Bill goes to Hog—um, school."

"You mean you don't go to school? How old are you?"

"Five."

"Then you should at least be in kindergarten, right?"

"Wow," she said, "you really _are _a Muggle. I've never met one of you guys before."

"What are you, an alien?" Harry demanded.

She giggled. "No, silly, I'm a witch. Duh!" She paused again. "Oops. I really need to stop saying…Hey, what's your name?"

"Harry."

"That's a weird name."

"Yeah, well, so is Ginny."

She huffed at him. "So, what are _you_ doing in these woods if you're a muggle? Don't you know that there's a prison here, full of dementors?"

"Demen—huh?"

"You muggles really don't know much," she commented.

"Hey! I'm not a muggle or whatever you call them. Could you quit calling me that?"

"Fine. Why are you here?"

"Because I am, that's why," Harry answered.

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Right." She bit her lip again. "I gotta find Ron…we were separated. Fred and George got us two different portkeys to get here, and somehow he ended up in a different place than me…" Her eyes filled with tears. "I didn't know it was so dark out! I thought we could go back!" She started bawling again.

"I'll help you look for him," Harry offered.

Ginny nodded gratefully. They started walking for a little while in the woods and Harry finally managed to ask, "What's a portkey?"

Ginny burst out laughing. "You're random."

Harry didn't ask again.

"Ron?" they both called. "Ron? Ron, are you here?"

After about fifteen minutes of shouting his name, they heard a strained voice call back, "Ginny? Is that you?"

"Ron!" she shrieked. Another red-head emerged from the trees and Ginny threw her arms around him, sobbing. "Ron, I thought we were going to die, I thought the dementors got you…"

"It's okay, Ginny, the dementors only hurt the prisoners." He gulped, looking a bit uncertain of this, then diverted his attention to Harry.

"Thanks for helping Ginny," he said. "I'm Ron."

"Harry. It was no problem. I hope you can get back—"

There was a loud crack. Ginny yelped; Harry covered his ears. A woman appeared out of thin air, also with flaming red hair. "Ron! Ginny!" she screamed, running towards them and embracing them. "Oh, thank goodness…Whatever made you two…? Oh, I'm going to murder the two of them…but you're all right." She breathed a sigh of relief.

Harry stared, mouth hanging open in shock. How'd she pop out of nowhere? It was like…like magic! But there was no such thing as magic. His aunt and uncle had been sure since day one to beat that into his skull. But…was there any other explanation?

"Mommy!" Ginny cried. "I'm sorry, Mommy, we won't do it again—"

"We thought we could just get back on the portkeys," Ron interrupted, "we didn't know they were one way—"

"Where did the twins go?" asked Ginny.

"Back to The Burrow. Only about five minutes ago did they admit what had happened after you two had been missing for about an hour!" She was clearly furious. Harry was just a little bit scared of her.

"Mommy, Harry helped me find Ron," said Ginny, pointing to Harry. She lowered her voice (although Harry still heard loud and clear), "He's a muggle, though."

"Would you quit calling me that?"

"Dear, where are your parents?"

"Not here right now," he said uncomfortably.

"Do you need help looking for them, dear? My goodness…lots of lost children tonight…don't worry, we'll help you."

"N-no, thank you," Harry said hurriedly, "they're, um, dead."

There was a stony silence. "How very terrible," said Mrs. Weasley, looking genuinely concerned.

"I didn't know them," said Harry, not knowing quite how to respond to her reaction. "Doesn't matter."

"Where are you supposed to be? Who takes care of you?"

"I don't need any help, I'm fine," said Harry. "But thank you."

Mrs. Weasley kept insisting. "I can't leave you here. You're all alone…in _this _kind of a place…there's no telling what could…"

"So there really is a prison here?"

"Of course not," said Mrs. Weasley. Harry could see she was lying, but didn't press the matter. He just wanted to get away from this woman. Didn't she know that by trying to put him where he was "supposed to be," all she would be doing is making it worse? He shuddered, imagining facing the Dursleys. He might as well just jump off of a cliff now and get it over with.

"I live with my aunt and uncle," he admitted. He looked up at her pleadingly. "But I can't go back. I can't. They'll kill me."

"They won't kill you, dear, they're probably worried sick."

Harry laughed. "No, they'll be glad I'm gone."

Mrs. Weasley gawked at him. Harry ceased his laughter, embarrassed.

"Come closer, I can hardly see you in the dark," said Mrs. Weasley. Harry walked over to the three of them, knowing it was alright to trust this woman. Even if she was totally trying to screw his escape plan, she seemed like she was nice. It was the first time he'd felt like someone actually cared about him.

"Who did this to you?" she asked softly.

"Did what?"

"All those cuts and bruises," she said, staring at him worriedly.

"My cousin and his friends. And my uncle," he added, feeling his head throb again from being thrown in the cupboard. "I can't go back there, I'm sick of them. I'll be fine. You guys better go to the…Burrow? Is that what you called it?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "But you're coming with us. I can't let you stay here, it's much too dangerous."

"But I—"

"I promise you, I won't take back to your uncle and aunt. Just come with us."

"Yeah, you can come home with us and sleep in our room," said Ron enthusiastically. "We have an extra bed downstairs."

"I…" Harry didn't know what to say. "Thank you," he finally said, giving up. "Thank you a lot."

"Oh, dear, it's no trouble. Don't worry. We'll get this all sorted out. Those people won't be able to lay a…" She stopped mid-sentence, staring at Harry's forehead. "That scar…" she mumbled, lifting up his hair so she could see it clearly.

"Oh, that? I've had it since I was a baby. My aunt said I got it in the car crash my parents died in."

"Car crash?" she asked faintly. "What--? Oh, yes, dear, a car crash…What's your last name? I don't think Ginny said."

"I didn't know," she said, "he didn't say."

"Potter," he said. "Harry Potter."

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Thanks for the reviews! YOU GUYS ROCK!


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but I OWN my older brother (in a sense that sometimes I can boss him around lol) and with his red hair, he looks an awful lot like Ron Weasley, so hey, it comes pretty close to the real thing! My sis is a redhead too and looks like Ginny...and the littlest one...? I like to call her, "Luna" lol. I'm the only blonde and my frizzy hair practically can conduct electricity. Hence, I have been dubbed "Hermione." (Though that would be an insult to poor Emma Watson.)

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Chapter Three

Mrs. Weasley's mouth dropped open. Ron and Ginny gaped at him.

"Harry _Potter_?" Ginny squeaked. "I thought you were a muggle! I…wow. You're the real Harry Potter!"

"Huh?" Harry frowned. "Look, I think you got the wrong kid. I mean, there have to be hundreds of other Harry Potter kids, right? And I'm not a muggle thing." He tried reasoning with them, trying to figure out what was happening, but received no response other than the previous one. Silently he wondered if this meant he couldn't go with them now.

Out of nowhere, Ginny shivered. Ron started, too.

"W-why's it getting s-s-so cold?" Ron stuttered.

Harry realized that indeed, it was getting mercilessly cold…but in the middle of summer? One of the hottest summers he could remember? He shook violently. This was not a good cold, not the refreshing cold he daydreamed about while working in the backyard all day. This was a brutal, threatening cold.

"What's happening?" Ginny cried.

"The dementors!" Mrs. Weasley cried. "I have a portkey. Hold on, quickly," Mrs. Weasley instructed, her voice panicked and strained.

"What's a d-d-dement—?"

"Grab the shoe!" Mrs. Weasley cut him off.

Harry reached for it, having seen and heard too many weird things in the past ten minutes to ask any more questions. Then, suddenly, all three of the Weasleys disappeared. "Hey!" Harry gasped as they swirled away, knocking him backwards off his feet. When he fell, something crunched beneath him.

It was ice. The ground had iced over! But how could that possibly happen in the middle of August?

Harry jumped to his feet, bracing himself for whatever was coming. Ginny had said something about the dementors, too, when she'd mentioned a wizard prison in the forest. But surely someone would have known if there were really a prison, right? He'd disregarded her, thinking she was a silly little kid. Now he thought otherwise.

Just when he thought it was getting colder than he could possibly live through, something came out of the shadows.

It was floating towards him menacingly, a dark, willowy invader. He felt as if all of his body had literally stopped. The little optimism he'd managed to salvage, his little shred of hope that someday things would get better, was sucked by the force of this terrible creature. Screams echoed through his head.

He shrieked with them, his eyes rolling back into his head. But nothing could stop the burn of the image in front of him: the black monster, like a decaying skeleton wrapped in robes, looming…

He toppled over again, onto the newly formed ice. Just before he fell unconscious, he saw the cat again.

"Run," he tried to warn it.

Then, to his shock, the cat morphed. It wasn't a cat anymore—it was a human being! A woman, with a stick outstretched in her hand. She muttered a few words…A light flashed…and Harry remember nothing else.

………………………………………

Mrs. Weasley did a head check the second the portkey's whirring ended. There was Ron and Ginny—she sighed with relief to know they were safe at home again. She gave them another big hug, when the lump in her throat formed and her heart flipped.

"Harry," she whispered.

"Where's Harry?" Ginny demanded.

Ron turned rather pale. "He's…with the dementors," he nearly choked, shuddering.

"Why didn't the portkey take him?" Mrs. Weasley searched frantically around the kitchen, making sure that he wasn't there before resorting to full-out panic. There was nothing more torturous than leaving a small child behind. And the boy was defenseless…the poor thing had been denied the knowledge of his heritage, of who he was. Harry Potter didn't even know that his name was being spoken all around the wizard world every single day.

"Take who?" asked Mr. Weasley, after releasing his two younger children from a hug, relieved to see they were home. Percy had told him everything that had happened as soon as he arrived home from the ministry. Mr. Weasley dealt with the twins—they were in their room for the time being—then looked apprehensively at the clock. _Mortal Peril, _it had read. Thank goodness that they were home again.

"Hey Ginny, hey Ron," Percy greeted them, also looking a bit frazzled. He hugged them. "I'll go tell the twins and Bill that you're home. You had us all worried sick." (A/N—I'm assuming that even the evilestest of all people were nice to their lil sibs when they were little. So no bashing lol.)

"Oh, Arthur—you'll never believe it—we ran into _Harry Potter_!"

Her husband stared at her incredulously. "In the forest where Askaban prison is? That's not possible."

"But it is!" Mrs. Weasley cried, near eccentrics. "He's Ron's age—the poor boy was being abused, so he ran away…he knows nothing of wizards…thinks Lily and James died in a car crash! They've fed his mind with lies, and now he's virtually defenseless against the dementors!"

"The dementors?" Mr. Weasley's eyes widened. "They came near you guys?"

"They did," Ron answered solemnly, still pale in the face, "and it was so cold."

"Really, really cold," Ginny added. "Like I'd never be happy again."

"That's what dementors do," said Mr. Weasley. "They suck happiness."

"I have to go back! We can't let that little boy suffer at the hands of dementors. What if they…_kiss him_?"

"Harry Potter!" Percy yelped. "You're joking!" He ran upstairs, calling to Bill.

"You can't go back," said Mr. Weasley. "It's too dangerous. Let me go."

"No, Arthur, I can't let you. There's no telling what could happen to you there."

"So you'll risk your own life but you won't let me risk mine?"

Mrs. Weasley paced the kitchen for a moment. "We have to contact Albus. It's the only thing I can think of to do. School isn't in session right now…but he'll be at Hogwarts. I think he was the one that settled Harry's affairs once Lily and James died, don't you? Here, get the fire ready."

There was a loud snapping noise right in front of the younger two Weasley children. Ginny screamed, and Ron jumped up in fright.

Albus Dumbledore stood before them in dark blue robes. "No need to fret, Molly. The boy has been taken care of by Minerva. She's been tracking him occasionally—it was very lucky that we caught him running off while we did, or the dementors might've gotten him. Thank you for your help."

"We didn't help him," Ron piped, "he helped us. He found Ginny for me." The instant after Ron spoke, he blushed and stepped back, remembering who he was talking to.

Dumbledore gave him a friendly smile. "Number five and six, I suppose?" he asked, indicating Ron and Ginny behind him.

"Yes," said Arthur proudly.

"But where's Harry going to stay?"

Dumbledore regarded her with confusion. "With his aunt and uncle, of course. They are his only living relatives and legal guardians."

"But—they're cruel to him, Albus. You can't let him go back there. Minerva would agree—she'll have seen him, too. They treat him like a rag doll. He looks awful. No child should have to go through that," she pleaded with him.

Dumbledore's face fell. "I am aware of this. Minerva is also against returning him, but sadly, it's the only way. It's the only place he's safe from Voldemort."

Ron dropped the shoe—their portkey—on the ground. Molly and Arthur winced. Ginny shuddered, then picked up the shoe. They headed up the stairs, figuring it was now an adult discussion.

"But You-Know-Who was destroyed," Arthur contradicted. Then he hesitated when Dumbledore didn't correct himself. "Wasn't he?"

"We can't know that for sure," Dumbledore admitted. "There are…unfortunately…many ways to keep one's self alive. Horrible ways, but possible ways. I think there is a way that he could be brought back to power."

He cleared his throat. "The Dursley's, being his family, are the one link that can keep him safe for the time being. They may be as cruel as you describe, but it's keeping him alive for now. Promise me that you won't try to interfere."

Mrs. Weasley hesitated. Her muscles tensed; her passion was too intense. All too vividly she imagined her own children in the place of Harry Potter, sporting cuts and bruises and being forced to run away to survive. "O—okay," she finally said. "I won't."

* * *

TBC...

Will Mrs. Weasley keep her promise? What will happen when Harry returns to the Dursleys? Does anyone but me notice that both the names "Weasley" and "Dursley" both end with "-sley"? Okay, that was random, but a good question...someone oughta ask J.K. if that was intentional...hmmm I think I'm paranoid and overthinking things. But hey, that's life lol.


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